The Eye of the Beholder
by broadwaygirl818
Summary: Christine Daaé isn't pretty, wealthy, or popular. All she wants is to be normal. When offered the chance to receive voice lessons, she seizes the chance, hoping that her new-found talent will finally gain her recognition. Yet, her music teacher has a horrible secret, and it will force her to rethink everything she has believed about beauty... and love.
1. Chapter One

**Ta-da! It's great to be back! I've been working on the concept and timeline for this story for a while, and I think it has *finally* agreed to co-operate with me. Reviews are much appreciated, especially in this early stage!**

 **Chapter One**

"Get out of the way, Frizz!"

Let me just say that I'm no Regina George.

Heck, I'm not even Cady Heron. At least she managed to evolve from her awkward stage. It's the same with Mia Thermopolis: she was clumsy and a bit dorky, but at the end of the day, she was a princess. Alas… for me, awkward isn't a stage. It's a lifestyle. You know, movies about ugly duckling highschoolers aren't accurate at all. Cady Heron, Mia Thermopolis, Harry Potter, Rory Williams… they give outsiders like me false hope, but high school largely embraces the caste system. You either fit in or you don't. There's no changing your social status in the real world.

Oh, and as for my nickname, Frizz? I hate it. Hate. It. Out of all of my short-comings, they chose to make fun of the one thing I'm the most insecure about: my appearance. I'm no beauty. My frizzy brown hair sticks out every which-way. On a good day, the elastic band tied around it doesn't break. I also have pale skin. Not porcelain skin, not creamy skin, just pale. My eyes are blue, but they are hidden behind glasses. Then, there's my wardrobe. It's…

"I'm loving the chic nun outfit, Frizz. Was Goodwill having a sale?"

… Well, we just won't talk about my wardrobe.

Head down, I tried to scurry away from my tormentors. Unfortunately, this prevented me from seeing the locker door that was directly level with my face.

Laughter exploded in the crowded hallway as my forehead collided with the metal door. I winced but managed not to shriek; that would only make things worse. It was better to just run away. _I really am Mia Thermopolis before her life became perfect,_ I thought to myself as I tried to ignore the sound of people laughing at me.

I managed to weasel through the clustered students and slip into my next classroom. Sighing with relief, I sank into my seat at the back of the classroom. Peeking around to make sure no one was coming, I took a book out of my backpack and began reading, allowing myself to drift away with the words.

"You're reading _that_ again?" came an incredulous voice all too soon. I looked up to see Meg, my best and only friend, standing in front of my desk. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You should have that thing memorized by now."

Carefully, I placed my book – _Beauty_ by Robin McKinley – back into my bag. "It's a good story," I replied defensively, insulted that she called my book a "thing."

Meg rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it is, but come on, Christine. There are other books. Why do you like that one so much?"

 _Because it's romantic_ , I wanted to say. _Because a plain, awkward girl, like me, gets a happy ending through her own doing. Because I want to be her._ But, I couldn't say these things to Meg. My best friend wore her outcast label like a badge of honor. She constantly told me we should consider ourselves lucky to not be mindless clones like the rest of the student body. Little did she know that I would have given so much to be a mindless clone, too, if only to make the constant stream of teasing end.

"I just like it," was my dishonest answer.

"If you say so," she said as other students began flooding in, anxious to reach their seats before class started. Meg took her place at the desk in front of me, and once again, I was envious of her sense of self. People might have laughed at Meg, but her confidence never wavered. She had her sights set on college, where she promised everything would be better. "It's more diverse," she repeatedly assured me. "There will be more people who think for themselves. There might even be someone who's as big of a nerd as you are!"

Perhaps Meg was right. Better days might have been ahead, but that wasn't really consolation for my lonely existence in high school.

Once class was out for the day, Meg invited me to her house, but I declined, claiming homework as my excuse. She rolled her eyes, saying, "Alright, nerd. I'll see you tomorrow. If you get bored obsessing over your history paper, let me know and I'll come rescue you."

As I made my way across town, I almost wished she could rescue me now. Pulling the edges of my threadbare coat around me, I once again wished for a car. _Maybe I should get Meg to just give me a ride._ That thought was banished immediately. No, if I did that, Meg would know where I'd really been going, and then, she'd insist that I hung out with her instead, and I needed my afternoons to myself.

Approaching my destination, the familiar excitement crept through me. My aching, tired feet picked up their pace, ignoring the constant rub of secondhand shoes that didn't fit quite right. The walk was well worth it, though, as I reached the doors of the public library. My small town's one saving grace was its two story library. As I entered into its warmth, I felt like I was home. As a girl from a poor family, I could never afford to go to summer camp or take ballet lessons. Instead, I'd found solitude in books, the one place I could go that didn't expect anything from me. I'd spent many happy afternoons lost in a book ever since I was old enough to walk to school by myself. On this particular day, I needed some extra comfort, so I walked straight to the arts section. And, like an old friend, the beautiful, antique opera anthology was waiting for me. Gently, I removed it from the shelf. Waving cheerfully at the librarian, Mrs. Valerius, I headed to my spot on the second floor. Finally, I was tucked away in my armchair in the far corner, safe from mockery and expectations I couldn't fulfill.

I was engrossed in the story of _La Boheme_ when I heard a voice saying my name. Looking up, I saw Mrs. Valerius standing next to my chair. "Christine, it's closing time," she informed me.

"Oh," I replied, disappointed. "I'm sorry. I completely lost track of the time."

She smiled kindly. "Reading that one again, are you?"

I nodded, reluctantly handing it to her. Anthologies had to remain in the library, so I couldn't take the precious book with me. "It's my favorite," I told her.

"I know." Inspecting it closely, she frowned. "It's starting to get worn down, isn't it?"

I blushed. "That might be my fault," I admitted. "I'm sure I'm the only person who reads it."

She laughed. "I imagine so. Run along home now, Christine. This old book will still be here when you come back."

Home. With a heavy heart, I stepped back into the frigid November air. Leaving the library, I felt like I was leaving home and going… somewhere else, but not home. I hadn't been _home_ since before my parents died. Stepping into my aunt's house, I didn't take my coat off, for the temperature wasn't much different inside from outside. Uncle Mark kept the temperature down to save money, for with four kids plus a teenager, they needed to save as much money as possible.

"Christine, is that you?" Aunt Joy called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's me!" I answered, going to join her. She patted a seat next to her at the table and passed over a plate of cookies. "Help me eat these, would you? I don't want there to be any chance of the kids getting them later. Heaven knows they don't need any more sugar."

Gratefully, I took the warm chocolate chip cookie. "Thanks," I said.

"There's dinner, too, if you want some," she prodded.

I shook my head. "No, it's okay," I replied. "I'm not very hungry, and I have a bunch of homework I want to do before I go to bed.

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling just as my mom's did long ago. "You're such a smarty pants. Your mom would be proud of you, do you know that?"

I smiled slightly. "I hope so. I'd like to think that I do."

Patting my leg, she handed me two more cookies. "Well, go ahead and do your schoolwork. Just don't stay up too late, alright? Sometimes, you push yourself too hard." Kissing me on the cheek, she started cleaning up the pots and pans that had been used to make supper. Guiltily, I crept upstairs. I wanted to help her clean, but I knew she wouldn't let me. Cleaning was her hobby, she frequently joked, and she was too selfish to share. However, I knew she was just trying to make things a little easier for me. So, I tried to repay the favor by never complaining and making as small of a dent in my aunt's and uncle's resources as possible. It wasn't their fault I had to live with them now.

As I lay in bed that night, cold and with my stomach grumbling in dissatisfaction, I thought of my parents. We'd been so happy. True, we never had much in the way of possessions, but we loved each other, and that had been enough. Curling up in fetal position, I closed my eyes and hummed one of their favorite songs, pretending it was my parents singing me a lullaby until I drifted off to sleep.

 **Posted on: July 29, 2015**


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Sundays were my favorite day of the week. I hummed quietly to myself as I painstakingly pinned my hair back. My oldest cousin, Sarah, sat on my bed, listening. "Are you going to be a singer, Christine?" she asked.

I laughed softly. "No, silly. I would need training, and I can't afford voice lessons."

"I'm not silly," the stubborn eight-year-old insisted. "Your voice is pretty. You sound like a Disney princess! You could go to Disney World and be one of them!"

Her naïve, innocent words warmed my heart. "You're a sweetheart, you know that?" I said, smiling at her. "Perhaps I will. Then, you could visit me all of the time and we could meet all of your favorite princesses together."

Her blue eyes widened. "Really?"

I slipped my plain black dress over my head and reached back to tie the sash. "Really," I promised. "One day, after I graduate from college and have a good job, your sisters and I will go to Disney World."

She squealed with excitement and took off down the hallway, screaming at the top of her lungs, "MAMA! CHRISTINE IS TAKING US TO DISNEY WORLD ONE DAY!"

My smile faded once I was alone. Because of our situation, none of us had ever gone to Disney World or even a family vacation. I'd resolved long ago to work hard in school so that my cousins could have a happier childhood. I didn't want them to be burdened with the same crushing sense of duty; I wanted them to be able to dare to dream, to be excited by things like Disney World and holidays. I'd somehow repay my aunt and uncle so they wouldn't have to worry so much.

"Christine!" I heard my uncle call. "It's time to go!"

I grabbed my old purse and darted towards the door. After locking the house, we held hands and started walking towards the small church that was only a few minutes away. Once we were there, I quickly made my way to the choir room and slipped on my choir robe. The other ladies in the choir smiled and greeted me. I was the youngest person by far in our choir, and honestly, we didn't sound very good, but making music with other people was a ray of sunshine in my dreary life. I saw Sarah wave at me from her seat, and I bit back a laugh as Aunt Joy leaned over and told her to behave. The organ began playing, and the music brought me peace, the stress from another week at school easing a little. When it came time for the sermon and I was in my seat, Sarah leaned over and whispered excitedly, "I could hear you. Your voice was the best." I smiled and took her hand, squeezing it gently, before slipping her a peppermint that I'd taken from the small bowl in the choir room. She nodded and quickly put it in her mouth before her sisters could see. She was a chatterbox, and it was an unspoken agreement that I'd give her a peppermint each Sunday and she would sit still and not talk.

After the service ended, we headed to the park for lunch, as was tradition. Aunt Joy passed out the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and we sat together on some old blankets. My cousins ran around, shrieking as they played in piles of golden and amber leaves. I was offered another sandwich, but I shook my head. "I'll save it for later," I promised when I saw my aunt's concern. "I'll eat it while I finish my homework."

"Have you thought about colleges yet?" Uncle Mark asked.

I nodded. "I think I'm going to start taking core classes from a junior college and then transfer to another one for my major. I can probably get a full ride for the junior college as long as I keep my grades up."

"And, what major might that me?" Aunt Joy inquired, then calling, "Girls! Don't leave my sight! If I can't see you from here, you're too far away!"

"Accounting," I answered, laughing at little Kendall's pout.

"Accounting?" my uncle repeated with surprise. "I thought you wanted to study music."

I shrugged. "Voice lessons cost extra, and I'd really like to get a job right out of college to start paying loans back. I can always sing in the choir. I like that better than solos, anyway." That last part wasn't entirely true; I'd just never had a solo, but secretly, I wanted one. Badly.

"I can start researching some," my aunt offered helpfully. "And, perhaps you can get a part-time job. That way, you can have some spending money."

"Yeah, I definitely would need to work," I agreed. "I'd actually like to get one after Christmas break so I can start saving for textbooks."

Uncle Mark frowned. "You sound so serious," he complained. "You're what, seventeen? You're a junior in high school. You're supposed to be rebellious and irresponsible!"

I pinched him playfully. "I think you're the only person to ever complain about a kid being too well-behaved," I teased.

"You're not a kid, though!" he argued. "You're like an old lady!"

"There's nothing wrong with being an old soul," Aunt Joy chimed in helpfully. "Christine is just thinking about the future. She has to save up for that Disney World trip she promised the girls," she added, her eyes twinkling. "You know that Sarah will never will never let you back out of that, right?"

I watched my four cousins play, screaming with happiness and being children, unconcerned with finances or the future. "I don't plan on backing out of it," I said softly. "I made a promise, and I keep my promises."

Aunt Joy's smile vanished. "Oh, Christine," she murmured, her arm reaching for me. "They didn't mean to leave you."

I jerked away before she could touch me and rose to my feet, needing to get away before my stinging eyes produced actual tears. "I know," I replied gruffly. "I'm going for a walk. I'll meet you guys back at the house, okay?" Then, I walked away before they could stop me.

 _They're right, you know,_ I scolded myself. _It's not your parents' fault._

I sighed. Of course it wasn't my parents' fault. They didn't choose to leave me. But, I couldn't pretend things were the same. They were gone now, and they weren't coming back. No one was going to look after me now, and I didn't want anyone to, anyway.

The tears sliding down my cheek silently accused me of lying, but I brushed them away angrily. I couldn't be a child anymore and jump in piles of leaves. I had to be an adult now. My childhood was over.

 **Posted on: August 3, 2015**


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"I don't think it's supposed to look like that," Meg whispered in horror.

"Probably not," I agreed quietly, "but we'll just pretend it's right."

My best friend tapped one of our beakers. "You know, we really suck at chemistry," she said solemnly. "We're far too creative."

I scribbled down some observations into my notebook. "Just think," I replied dryly. "In a couple of years, we'll get to take this all over again in college."

She groaned. "Great. Just great. How am I going to pass chemistry _twice?"_

A throat clearing from the front of the room hushed us immediately. Meg's voice… carries, and our teacher, Mr. Caldwell, was glaring at us from the front of the lab. "Eyes on your work, people," he commanded us.

Meg rolled her eyes but quit talking. Picking up our beakers, I walked towards the sink in order to empty them. Before I could reach it, someone bumped me and I tripped, causing the beakers to crash to the ground and shatter. Everyone stopped and turned to look at me, my face already red. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my humiliation eating away at me.

Mr. Caldwell huffed in annoyance. "Don't just stand there!" he snapped. "Grab something to clean this up! And you'll be responsible for paying for them."

Fighting the urge to cry, I turned to fetch some cleaning supplies, only to see one of the male students had already grabbed some. Without hesitation, he started cleaning my mess. When I saw his face, I started. It was Raoul de Chagny, star of the varsity football team. He was the most popular guy in school, and every girl had a giant crush on him. He was the topic of many whispered conversations in the school hallways and girls' bathrooms. The girls in the lab started tittering. Hurriedly, I knelt and helped him gather the broken pieces of glass, neither of us saying a word. As we headed to the storage closet to put away the cleaning supplies, I turned to him gratefully. "Thank you," I said bashfully. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "No big deal," he replied. "I'm Raoul, by the way."

"Yeah, I know," I answered without thinking. He raised his brows, and I blushed furiously. "I mean, everyone knows you," I prattled on as I stretched on my tip-toes, trying to put the cleaner in the right place.

"You mean everyone knows my name, or everyone knows _me_?" he asked. He grabbed the cleaner from me and placed it on the shelf above me.

"At least people know your name," I countered as we made our way back to the lab. "You and I have been in the same classes since the third grade, did you know that?" The look on his face told me he hadn't, and I smiled slightly. "It's okay," I reassured him. "I'm used to it." Before he could say anything else, I opened the door of the lab and went back to my spot next to Meg, where I made sure not to meet Raoul de Chagny's gaze the rest of the period. Once everyone starting packing their book bags, I approached Mr. Caldwell and offered him my lunch money. "I'm sorry," I apologized meekly. With a _hmph,_ he took the money from me and dismissed me. Sadly, I left the lab and went to the cafeteria. Meg and I went to our usual table in the back of the room. "Where's your lunch?" she asked. "Are you not hungry?" I explained that I'd used my lunch money to pay for the beakers I'd broken. Sighing, she handed me half of her sandwich. "You need to eat, you know," she told me. "It's okay to ask to borrow money."

I shook my head. "I don't like accepting favors. I can't ever give anything back. I don't want to be a burden."

She firmly pushed her sandwich towards me, and reluctantly, I took it. "You don't have to give anything, Christine," she said. "Sometimes, people like helping. You're more of a burden if you never accept help and everyone worries about you."

"Geez, thanks," I muttered sarcastically, hanging my head.

Meg nudged me. "Hey, I'm just trying to be honest. I do worry about you, and I'm sure your aunt and uncle worry, too."

I guiltily thought of them. "They have their own children to worry about, Meg. They are too busy to worry about me. And, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Meg sighed in discontent but let it drop, and we finished the rest of our meal in silence. Once again, I compared myself to my best friend. She meant well, I knew, but her words hurt because she just didn't understand. Everything was clear-cut with her; problems always had simple solutions, and there was an answer for everything. Meg was black and white, but I dwelled in the complicated realm of gray, where answers were abstract and solutions couldn't always be found.

By the time I reached the library, I was eager to collapse into my chair with my book and forget about my embarrassing experience in lab. I said a quick hello to Mrs. Valerius before darting up the steps. I had the book open and was searching for my spot from the day before when I reached my chair. Without looking, I moved to sit.

"Excuse me."

I was so shocked that I dropped the book. Jumping like a frightened rabbit, I saw that someone was already sitting in my chair. "Oh," was all I could utter in my bewilderment. "I'm so sorry."

"Perhaps if you watched where you were going, you would not sit on people," the smooth male voice said. Heat flooded my face. The stress of the day caught up to me, and before I could catch myself, I blurted out, "Well, perhaps if _you_ weren't sitting in my chair, you wouldn't be sat on!"

The man shifted in his – _my_ – seat, and the dim light reflected off something white. I peered closer and saw to my astonishment that a white mask was covering half of his face. _Talk about eccentric._

"Your seat?" he repeated. His tone was aloof and… amused? There was a smirk on his face. "I was unaware that seats could be reserved in a library."

I exhaled in irritation. "You can't," I retorted. "I just always sit there. It's so… out of the way. I can read my book without people bothering me." Then, I realized that the book was still on the ground where I had dropped it. Before I could bend to pick it up, the man had it in his hands and was examining it. "Opera?" he asked, surprise evident in his tone.

I bristled. "Yes, opera."

He cocked his head to the side, now studying _me._ "Forgive me," he said, though his voice wasn't apologetic in the least, "but you are awfully… _young_ to be interested in opera."

"And, you are awfully rude to make assumptions about people whom you have just met," I answered. _What is wrong with me?_ I wondered. _It's not like me to be so confrontational. Or to talk to strangers, for that matter._ But, I couldn't help it; something about the man rubbed me the wrong way. He seemed so arrogant, so condescending. I extended my hand, ready to get away from him. "May I have my book back?" I requested. "I'll go sit somewhere else."

" _My_ book," he mocked, but he handed me the book just the same. "You are a possessive young thing, aren't you?" Then, he stood, rising to his full height. I couldn't stop myself from shrinking back slightly. He was quite tall, seemingly towering over me. "You may have your seat on one condition," he added, smirking again.

"What's that?" I asked, only wanting him to go away.

"Tell me your name."

I barely suppressed my eye roll. _Oh, now he wants to have introductions._ "Christine Daaé," I told him impatiently.

"My name is Erik," he informed me.

I wondered at the lack of a surname, but I didn't care enough to ask him about it. "Well, Erik, if you don't mind, I would like to read my book now." I looked pointedly at my chair, and as he promised, he relinquished it to me without further debate. "Have a good afternoon, Miss Daaé," he bid me, and I could have sworn he was laughing quietly as he walked away.

Finally, I found my spot in the book, but to my frustration, I couldn't concentrate on _La Boheme_ today. My mind was occupied with the masked man named Erik. After several unsuccessful minutes, I gave up on reading and closed the book angrily. _What a rude, obnoxious man!_ I thought crossly, replaying our conversation in my mind. Every time I thought of his smug smile, anger boiled within me. And, as I left the library, I sincerely hoped I'd never encounter Erik again.

 **Posted on August 7, 2015**

 **A/N: I'll be out of town next week, which is why I submitted this chapter early. I promise I'll post the next chapter by noon on the 17th.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

I impatiently tapped my blue notebook with the edge of my pencil. I was trying to complete my chemistry lab entry about the disastrous experiment. Although it had been three days, I was embarrassed every time I thought about it. My lab report had to be better than my actual lab experiment if I wanted to maintain a B average in that class. No, not wanted; making bad grades wasn't optional, which is why I'd been laboring over the stupid report for over an hour.

I was trying to make sense of my notes when my phone buzzed. Seeing it was a new message from Meg, I opened it and read, _I'm way behind on everything. Can u print an extra copy of ur report? Thankx!_

I hated it when she did this. Meg was _always_ behind on her homework because she was at the movies (she considered herself a serious movie critic) or the bowling alley. I couldn't just print an additional copy of my report; I'd have to make it sound like Meg, which meant I'd have to go back and misspell words and take out some of the detailed descriptions. Not that she was a terrible student, per se; she just didn't proof-read because she procrastinated too much to have enough time left to double-check her work.

Yet, it really wasn't worth facing her wrath if she failed chemistry. Also, I had limited text messages and couldn't afford to argue with her, so I sent back, _Sure, but read it before you turn it in because we have a test coming up next week._ I groaned and stretched, my joints aching fiercely from me sitting Indian-style for too long. _I need a break,_ I decided. Tossing my notebook onto my bed, I shuffled downstairs to the kitchen and began making myself some tea.

"Chemistry?" came a voice behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Aunt Joy's sympathetic face. Nodding, I continued to stir honey and sugar into the steaming mug on the counter before me.

"Your mother and I hated chemistry, too," my aunt said as she began fixing her own mug. "Your mother was good at everything in school, but science was her Achilles' heel. When we were small, she wanted to be a veterinarian, but science classes changed her mind pretty quickly."

"I just don't understand it," I confided. "I take good notes and pay attention. I ask questions. I just don't _get_ it."

Aunt Joy smiled in understanding. "It's okay, Christine," she said reassuringly. "You can't be good at everything. You're a good student, and you have an impressive GPA. Getting into school won't be a problem for you."

"But, getting scholarships will be!" I insisted, my despair finally bleeding out of my cracking surfacing, climbing into the cool air. "I _need_ a full ride scholarship, Aunt Joy! I can't afford school without one!"

My aunt's face fell. "I know," she admitted softly. "I'm so sorry, Christine. I never wanted you to have this kind of pressure. It's not fair."

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to regain my flighty composure. "It doesn't matter if it's fair or not," I told her wearily. "It's how it is, and there's nothing I can do to change it. Besides, you're probably right; I have A's in my other classes, and maybe Mr. Caldwell will give me a pity B." It was unlikely, but I wanted to cheer her up. I suddenly felt ashamed of my leaking emotions. Here I was, complaining about chemistry to my aunt. She didn't need my stress to add to her own. "My GPA wouldn't suffer too much that way, and I'll still be able to get the scholarships I need."

The worry lines between her forehead deepened. "B's aren't supposed to be bad things, you know," she told me.

I smiled sadly. "I know," I said. "I'm just a worrier." I picked up my mug. "I'm going to go finish my stupid lab report. It's due tomorrow, and I have to type it up and print it before fourth period. Then, I'm going to bed." I kissed my concerned aunt on the cheek. "Goodnight," I bid her before quickly heading back to my room. Even as I closed the door, I knew I was running away from the guilt I felt from worrying my sweet aunt.

As I was finishing, I received another text from Meg. _Bowling alley at 10. Be there!_ It wasn't a request. Irritated, I replied with, _I can't._

Moments later, my phone buzzed again. _Don't be such an old lady._

 _It's too late, and I'm too tired after doing our homework,_ I retaliated. It was a low blow, but at the moment, I didn't care. I was grouchy and needed sleep. She didn't bother texting back, and I resolved to make it up to her by earning her a good grade on her lab report.

The next day, I handed her the finished report. "I'm sorry for snapping last night," I apologized earnestly. "I was really tired. Chemistry leaves me in a bad mood, you know?"

She smiled, all forgiven at the sight of her report. "It's okay. Next time, though, I'm not letting you off so easy. Now, let me tell you about…" Then, she launched into a story about the previous night's escapades. I nodded and laughed in all of the right places, but in my heart, I wished that for just once, my best friend would be the one to listen for a change.

Throughout the day, I waited – well, hoped – that Meg would apologize for her part of our little spat, or that she would at least thank me for writing and printing her lab report. Of course, she didn't, and I was more than a little hurt and disappointed. She was supposed to be the one person I _could_ talk to about my fears and worries, but I guess it just never crossed her mind that I, quiet though I was, needed to confide in someone. Despite having a caring family and a best friend, I was lonely. I fought to bend every which-way in order to make everyone happy, but I needed someone to inquire after _my_ happiness for once.

Before I could escape to the comfort of the library after school, Meg caught me in front of my locker. "You're coming to the mall with me!" she announced, a broad grin on her face."

"Don't you think we should work on our homework first?" I suggested timidly. I didn't like going to the mall and looking at all of the nice things I could never buy. I really wanted to be alone to wallow in my self-pity, but Meg was having none of that.

"For once in your life, don't worry!" she laughed. "Come on, I'm driving. Then, we'll go bowling for a little while. You owe me, anyway!"

I sighed. There was apparently no way I was going to avoid hanging out with her. "You're incorrigible," I muttered even as she linked her arm with mine.

"Don't use your nerd words on me!" she exclaimed as she happily steered me towards the parking lot. "Just relax and let yourself have fun for the first time since, like, second grade!"

So, after an awkward afternoon of carrying her shopping bags and an even more awkward evening of sitting around the bowling alley watching Meg and her friends play, I was relieved when I stepped into my small, quiet house. I quickly made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to assuage my screaming stomach before heading to my room at long last. Kicking of my worn sneakers, I left my socks on to keep my feet warm and opened my textbook. It was past midnight by the time I finally completed all of my assignments. I looked longingly at _Beauty_ resting on my nightstand, but before I could reach for it, I fell asleep without bothering to change my clothes. When my alarm clock went off, I opened my weary eyes to find that someone had turned my bedroom light off for me and had tucked me in while I slept. Forcing myself to face the cold day, I moved through the house like a zombie, only weakly bidding my aunt a good morning.

"Man, you look awful!" Meg exclaimed when I sank into my seat for our first class."

"Really? I thought this could be my new signature look," I muttered back, too tired to keep my tongue in check.

"Well, you need to wake up, because after school, we're going to –"

"Not hang out," I finished. "I'm going home and doing my homework."

"Christine –"

"And then, I'm going to bed and recovering from last night."

"Alright," she said, clearly miffed. "Don't spend time with your best friend."

I sighed. "We'll hang out tomorrow," I promised her wearily. "I just have a lot to do today, okay?"

"Fine," she replied shortly, "as long as you don't bail on me."

I gave her a thin smile. "That's not even an option," I promised, because it wasn't. Not if I wanted to stay in my best friend's good graces.

 **Posted on August 17, 2015**


	5. Chapter Five

**Many of you have been inquiring about Erik giving Christine voice lessons. They have only just met, and since Christine is quite level-headed, she needs to know Erik - or at least partially trust him - before agreeing to be under his tutelage. Also, he hasn't heard her sing yet, so he has no reason to offer her lessons. Lessons ARE in the future, just not the immediate one.**

 **catarina . casanova** **2:** **I'll be more than happy to answer the questions in your review. Send a PM and I'll explain everything you were wanting to know. :)**

 **Please review! I'd love y'all's feedback on Erik and Christine's characterizations so far! Your feedback helps more than you know!**

 **Chapter Five**

The only school period I didn't have with Meg was choir, which didn't bother me as much as it should. She was on the school dance team. She'd taken everything from ballet to tap dancing since she could walk, and since I was both too poor and too uncoordinated to take dancing lessons, I'd never even considered auditioning for the dance team. So, for an hour each day, we went our separate ways. It was nice having a break from her, especially after the lab report incident. Besides, I didn't want her pressuring me to be bolder in choir; I already had to hear it in every other class. I swear, I marveled that she didn't just get a tattoo that said "Mutant and proud!" on her forehead.

We had recently begun rehearsing _Ave Verum Corpus_ by Mozart. I held the music lovingly in my hands as we rehearsed. It was a gorgeous piece, and the text was equally beautiful. I sat in the alto section, trying not to be jealous as the sopranos' voices soared above me. My voice range was awkward. This song wasn't hard, but in some of the other choral pieces, singing in the lower register was a bit uncomfortable. However, I couldn't sing high enough or strongly enough to join the sopranos, so I remained hidden among the altos, my voice not quite as secure and confident as theirs.

After rehearsal, I approached the choir director, Dr. Kirkland. "How may I help you, Miss Daaé?" she asked in her crisp British accent.

"I was wondering if I could check out my copy of _Ave Verum Corpus?"_ I asked shyly. "I'd like to practice at home and become more familiar with it."

She smiled kindly. "I wish all of my students would take your initiative," she complimented. "Of course you may take it with you. I know you'll take care of it. Just write down the stamped number on the sheet by the piano with your name next to it. You can keep it until after the concert."

That afternoon at the library, I postponed going to my spot (for it still was _my_ spot) and headed towards a computer. Turning the volume down low, I searched for different performances of _Ave Verum Corpus._ Finding a college performance,I took out my copy of the music and hummed along softly. I was so engrossed in the lovely music that I didn't see the shadow looming over me.

"That's a particularly bad performance, you know," a cold voice casually stated from somewhere above me.

With a squeak, I jumped and whirled around to see a man with a white mask standing behind me.

"Oh," I said, unable to hide my irritation. "It's you. What do _you_ want? Don't tell me that this is your computer."

His lips twitched ever so slightly. "Of course not," he replied smoothly. " _I'm_ not possessive over things that don't actually belong to me."

My face began to feel warm, but I fought to ignore it. "I'm not bothering you by sitting here!" I protested.

"Bad musical interpretations bother me," he disagreed. "Why don't you find a better version?"

I exhaled in exasperation. Clearly, this man needed a hobby. Perhaps he could start collecting masks since he seemed so fond of them. "I'm just trying to learn my part for school," I told him. "Does it really matter which version I use?"

He frowned, and I shrank back. I didn't know why, but something about his frown sent chills down my spine. "It always matters," was all he said. "Now, why don't I help you find a better version?"

"No!" I answered a little too loudly. Mrs. Valerius shot me a warning look from her seat at the front desk and placed her finger over her lips. The man – _Erik,_ my mind suddenly recalled – smirked. "It's in your best interest," he pressed, "both as a singer and as a library guest." When I didn't argue further, he pulled over a chair and sat beside me. Sullenly, I shoved over the keyboard and mouse. He immediately stopped my version from playing. Then, he began typing. I couldn't help but notice how his long fingers glided over the keys, making the mundane task of typing look like a type of art. "Here," he announced, interrupting my thoughts. "Here's a performance conducted by Bernstein. Listen to this and tell me how it's different from the tragic version you chose."

The music began to play, and as it continued, I began to relax. Soon, I forgot that Erik was there, and I began to hum along softly.

"Shhhh!" he hissed. "Listen!"

Taken aback, I remained silent for the rest of the piece. After it was over, I asked, "Why did you shush me?"

"Because you weren't listening, Miss Daaé," he said, frowning again.

"Yes I was!" I retorted, hiding my surprise that he remembered my name.

"No, you weren't. Listen again." Before I could argue, he started the piece again. Crossing my arms defiantly, I listened… and this time, I _heard._ As much as I hated to admit it, there _was_ a music was breathtaking. I sat through the entire piece without uttering a single word or note, but out of awe, not stubbornness. Now, I understood what Erik meant by calling the college version a bad interpretation; it had correct pitch and rhythm, but it was empty, meaningless. This music, though… it had depth and power. I'd thought music was music, that the medium didn't matter, but I'd been very wrong. Though it was the same high-school level piece of music, it sounded completely different when placed in different hands.

The piece ended, and I noticed Erik was watching me. _Was he watching me the whole time?_ I wondered, all at once self-conscious. "Thank you," I said quietly. "I understand now."

His lips twitched again, but this time, the motion seemed less mocking. "I know," he replied simply. Then, "Have you ever heard of the German Requiem by Brahms?" When I shook my head, he sighed impatiently. "Then you must hear it," was his short response. His fingers began flying across the keyboard once again. His graceful movements were suddenly familiar to me, and before I realized it, I was asking, "Are you a pianist?"

He paused. "What makes you say that?" he inquired. His tone was cautious, but I didn't really pay attention.

"Your fingers," I explained. He raised an eyebrow, and my face flushed. "The way they move," I insisted, trying to unjumble my words. "They move like a pianist's."

"Why do you think that?" he asked, resuming his typing. He now sounded like an adult amusing a small child. He was so annoying.

"Because," I answered with exaggerated patience to match his own, "my father played the piano. His fingers moved the same way." _Though not as gracefully._ The thought entered my mind unbidden, and I bit my lip to keep it from escaping.

"Yes, I play the piano," he finally admitted impatiently. "Now, stop being a nuisance and listen."

His words stung. "I didn't ask you to come over here," I snapped. "You don't have to be so rude."

"Life is too short to cater to fools," he replied shortly.

 _Nuisance. Fool._ Even when I tried to keep to myself, I somehow still managed to be a burden. "I still don't like you," I retaliated childishly.

He smiled without humor. "I'm glad we have finally agreed on something today," he concurred condescendingly. "Now, _hush."_

I crossed my arms again as the music played, but this time, I didn't listen. I was too angry. I thought of all of the ways I was going to tell him off, how unbearable he was, and how strange he was for wearing that stupid mask. I had a string of insults ready, and when the music ended, I turned to unleash them, only to find that Erik was gone. _Good riddance!_ I thought, moving to close the browser page. But, my hand lingered over the exit button. With a resigned sigh, I pressed the replay button and released the mouse, this time really listening to the music. It was beautiful, filled with the same power and depth as the Bernstein _Ave Verum Corpus._ It was music that erased all thought, leaving emotions free to run wild.

As I sat there listening, I realized two things about Erik. First, he knew and understood music probably better than anyone I'd ever known. And, regardless of how much I disliked him, I begrudgingly respected him, and I wished he didn't find me quite so intolerable and pathetic.

 **Posted on August 21, 2017**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

"So, how much is it again?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The secretary patiently repeated the figures for me. I'd been on the phone with the local junior college ever since I'd reached home, and the poor lady on the phone was probably tired of explaining everything to me. "Of course, your school might cover some of the cost," she added at the end of a long stream of numbers. "Most schools assist in dual-enrollment payments."

"I'll definitely look into it. And, could I make small payments instead of paying it all at once? Maybe monthly?"

"Absolutely," she assured me, and I exhaled in relief. "We're willing to work with you. Dual-enrollment will really save you both time and money."

"Alright," I replied. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, ma'am. Have a nice day." With that, I heard the _click_ at the other end of the receiver that signified she'd hung up.

"What did she say?" Uncle Mark asked from his seat at the table.

"She said I should talk to the school about helping with the expenses," I informed him.

"That would certainly help," he remarked. "That way, you would really only need to pay for textbooks.

"Right. All I really need now is to work on finding a job."

He shook his head. "Christine, I'd rather you waited until summer break. I was the one who turned your bedroom light off the other night. I'm not lecturing you," he quickly added as I started to apologize, "but you're wearing yourself thin. You're a good student and a responsible young lady. The only reason I worry about you is you don't always take care of yourself. As tired as you already are, just focus on school for the next few months before adding a job into the mix, okay? Promise me?"

I bit my lip. I really wanted to go ahead and start working so I could afford Christmas presents and save money, but my uncle looked so concerned that I softened. "Promise," I agreed, smiling a little. "Thanks for having my back."

"Always, kiddo," he said, returning my smile. "Now, run along to the library. You deserve some time to yourself. And, don't let Meg guilt-trip you into going to the mall with her!"

Laughing, I grabbed my coat. "You don't have to tell me twice!" I called as I eagerly slipped out the door and into the brisk air. This was the first time I'd gone to the library all week, and stepping through its doors felt like coming home. Mama Valerius glanced up from her seat at the desk and greeted me cheerfully. "Hey, stranger! I was beginning to think you'd grown tired of this old place!"

"Never," I replied, grinning from ear-to-ear. I started to walk towards the stairs, but paused and then went back to the desk. Leaning over it, I quietly asked, "Ummm… do you know if Erik is here?"

"Who, dear?" she asked, gazing over the tops of her glasses.

"Erik," I said uncertainly. "Tall guy, really thin?" She still looked confused, so, feeling suddenly guilty for some reason, I added, "mask?"

Her furrowed brow smoothed with recognition. "Oh, yes! Him. No, he's not here today. Do you want me to tell him you inquired after him?"

"No!" I answered a little too quickly. "It's fine. We just like the same spot upstairs, and I wanted to know if it's open."

She smiled knowingly. "Well, he's not here today, so it's all yours."

Relief flooded through me. I thanked her and then darted up the stairs. I took my copy of _Beauty_ out of my bag and carefully turned to the spot indicated by my bookmark. I drank in the words like hot chocolate, and the familiarity of them warmed me in spite of the slight chill that hung in the air. I happily read for several long minutes, allowing myself to relax for the first time that week, but sadly, I was interrupted.

"The nice librarian indicated that you missed me."

Glancing over the top of my book, I groaned when I saw Erik standing there, trademark smirk in place. "Please no," I begged. "I was having such a nice time." He walked away, and for a foolish moment, I thought he was actually going to adhere to my wishes. Instead, he returned with another chair and placed it directly across from mine. Giving up, I placed my book in my lap. "What do you want?" I asked. "I didn't miss you. I only asked about you because I wanted to know if my seat was open."

"No need to be cross," he purred. "I have clearly relinquished the seat to you."

"Well, yes, but you see, I can't really read with you sitting there, can I?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Why ever not?"

I rolled my eyes. This man knew exactly how to press my buttons… buttons I'd never known I even had until I met him. "Because," I explained with exaggerated patience, "you're watching me."

"What _are_ you reading?" he asked then. Before I could stop him, he had my book in his hands. " _Beauty_ my Robin McKinley," he read aloud. "No doubt some retelling of _Beauty and the Beast."_

"It is," I affirmed reaching for my book, but he moved it out of my reach. Crossing my arms, I sat there and waited as he read the summary on the back. "Interesting," was all he said as he handed it back to me.

"You know, it's very rude to snatch other people's belongings," I informed him stiffly.

"Think of it as me helping you learn to share," he countered, laughing at my annoyed expression. "Oh, please, Miss Daaè… you do put on such airs!"

"I don't put on airs!" I retorted. "I'm private! There's a difference!" I glared at him, but he stared back unashamedly. "Will you please leave me alone now? It has been a long week, and I just want to read without someone harassing me!"

"I would have thought you would be delighted in someone else expressing interest in what you're reading," he said calmly. "You are alone every time I see you, which means you don't have the opportunity to discuss it much with others. You are lonely."

His words struck a nerve. _How dare he makes presumptions about me?_ I wondered furiously. _As if he knows anything about me!_ "I'm alone every time you see me because I choose to be alone," I coolly explained. "As I have said, it has been a long week, and I would prefer to enjoy my afternoon without some stranger analyzing me."

To my relief, he rose from his chair. "Fine," he relented, sounding amused. "Enjoy your little book, Miss Daaè." He took a few steps, then paused. "I hope your week improves," he added without turning around.

"I'm sure it will now," I said pointedly. He laughed softly and then – _finally!_ – left me alone with my book. However, before I returned to the worn pages, I thought that he actually sounded like he meant that last bit about hoping my week improved. Then, I shook my head and fervently got lost in my book once again.

 **Posted on August 26, 2015**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"Boom!" Meg exclaimed as we left the chemistry classroom. "That's what I'm talking about! A's for both of us!"

"This is probably the first time I've ever smiled in chemistry," I replied dryly, tucking my lab report into my backpack.

She laughed and threw an arm around me. "We should celebrate after school," she said decisively. "Frozen yogurt is calling my name!"

I eased out from under her arm as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. "I can't, Meg. I don't need to spend –"

"Come on, Christine!" she begged, altering her features into a ridiculous pout. "My treat. It's thanks to you that he gave us good grades, anyway!"

I thought it over for a second before smiling slyly. "Only if we can brainstorm for our papers while we're there."

She groaned. "Fine, fine," she conceded. "I guess if we're going to have to do write those, anyway, we may as well treat ourselves." She grabbed her dance shoes out of her locker and checked the time, moaning when she realized she was going to be late yet again. "I'll see you soon!" she called as she raced off towards the gym, dodging the innocent bystanders in her path.

Black choir binder in hand, I stepped into the choir room and took my seat at the back of the alto section, as usual. Flipping to _Ave Verum Corpus,_ I hummed my part quietly to myself. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was thankful Erik had shown me the Bernstein version. I'd listened to it several times and used it to mark dynamics and expressions. When we started singing it, I was pleased to find that all of my markings matched what Dr. Kirkland wanted to hear.

"Your assignment for the day is to write the word-to-word translation in your music!" she announced at the end of rehearsal. "Please don't just search for a translation; actually find the meaning of each individual word. I will expect a copy of your translation written out and turned in to me before we start our next rehearsal. Good work today, everybody!" she called as everyone gathered their belongings and left the room in a flurry. Before I slipped out the door, she called, "Christine!"

I paused in the doorway. "Yes ma'am?"

"Good work today. Your dynamics and expression really inspired your section."

A felt a pleasant flush warm my face. "I listened to some different performances of it at the library, and that really helped."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. You're a good singer, and I'm glad you're in choir. Have a good day." With that, she dismissed me, and I went to meet up with Meg with a smile on my face.

As we was driving to the frozen yogurt place, I told her about choir. "I really love singing," I said. "I hope I can find a junior college with a choir. I'd miss it terribly."

"Why don't you go to a school with a good music program?" she asked as she maneuvered into a parking spot. "You could easily get an academic scholarship, and you'd be really happy studying music."

"I know," I replied wistfully, "but music degrees are fickle. I can't risk ending up with no study job and tons of student debt."

"Well, we'll just have to hope that you can always find a good choir to sing in, then." She examined her parking job. "I'm in the lines, right?" she asked worriedly.

She was actually on the line, but I nodded anyway. "You're fine." I grabbed my notebook. "Ready?"

"Ready," she answered, and then, we made a mad dash for the door, shrieking as the cold attacked us. The cashier shot us a look as we crashed through the door, shivering. "Frozen yogurt, Meg. Great idea," I panted.

"It sounded good at the time," she shot back, already moving towards the yogurt machines. "Next time, we'll get coffee."

Once we had our daily intake of sugar sitting before us, we took out our notebooks. "Why do we have to write so many papers in history?" Meg griped around mouthfuls of pink yogurt and gummy bears. "I hate writing papers!"

"I like them," I replied calmly. "History is fascinating."

"Nope," she answered stubbornly. "I'd rather dance any day. We're going to a competition next weekend, and I'm super pumped. It's in Miami."

"Lucky," was my envious reply. "Bring the warm weather back with you. What are you going to be dancing?"

"Well, the group routine is a really cool contemporary piece," she told me excitedly.

"And, your solo piece?" I prodded. Meg always had a solo. After being a member of her dance studio for twelve years, she'd earned each and every one.

"Issaballepiece," she mumbled, blushing furiously.

"Come again?" I asked, pretending not to understand her even as my grin betrayed me.

She huffed, then repeated, "It's a ballet piece." She shoved another bite into her mouth so she wouldn't have to say it again. She was always embarrassed of her ballet solos, but secretly, Meg loved ballet. Though a wild child at heart, she loved the precision and technique of the classic dance. She always insisted, however, that she hated wearing tutus. They clashed with her hipster image.

"You're a really beautiful ballet dancer," I said now to ease her embarrassment. "It's definitely the hardest dance form; not everyone can do it so well."

I'd said the right thing, for her face lit up considerably. "I've heard that there will be college representatives at this competition," she confided eagerly. "I'm hoping that next year, when I'm a senior, I'll receive invitations to audition at some of them."

"I'm sure you will," I replied with a smile. "Now, let's get to work on our papers before you go into a sugar coma!" Yet, thrilled though I was for my best friend, I couldn't quite get rid of the jealously that lurked in my heart. I knew it wasn't her fault that I couldn't pursue music, and I was happy that her future dancing career was working out, but still, I was envious. _Just once,_ I thought as we compared notes, _I wish something in my life would work out… just once._

But, maybe things would. Maybe college would be the best possible thing for me: a place where no one knew me, where I could start over and not be the queer, shy girl who sat in the back of the classroom. I could be whomever I desired to be... who I'd always _wanted_ to be.

 _Yes,_ I decided, smiling to myself. _I'll make it through high school, and once I'm in college, things will definitely turn around for me._

 **Posted on August 31, 2015  
**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The cold wind didn't assuage the burning in my cheeks as I rushed through the busy streets. How could I have been so foolish? To think that I would earn a solo was naïve, and I prided myself on my maturity. Now, I'd only made a spectacle of myself, and I could never face my fellow choir members again.

Every year at the winter concert, someone sang "O Holy Night" as a solo. It was my favorite Christmas song, and ever since freshman year, I'd longed to sing it. So, when Dr. Kirkland asked who would like to audition, I'd raised my hand along with the rest of the hopeful girls. Although I was sitting in the back, someone saw that I had the audacity to raise my hand, and soon, the entire room was buzzing with whispers and giggles. By the time it was my turn to audition, all I could do was shake my head, my face the color of strawberries.

"Are you sure, Christine?" Dr. Kirkland asked with a frown. "This is the only day to audition."

Another round of giggling made my decision for me. "Yes ma'am," I answered miserably. For the rest of rehearsal, I couldn't bring myself to sing at all, instead quietly sitting and staring at the floor.

I'd rushed straight to my locker and turned to Meg for comfort. I told her the whole story, and when she was angry, I began to feel better, until I realized her anger was directed towards me.

"How could you?" she demanded indignantly. "You can't let them see you upset! If you wanted a solo and they laughed at you, that should be all the more reason for you to audition! You have to rise above people's opinions."

For the first time in our friendship, I glared at her. "I don't need this today," I reprimanded. "Thanks for nothing. I'll see you tomorrow." Slamming my locker door shut, I began walking away.

"Wait! Christine!" she called after me, but I didn't acknowledge her. I was too afraid that she would see how close I was to tears, and I didn't need to be yelled at anymore.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I walked home, trying to hold myself together. If I could just get to my room, I could at last cry and be weak without being scolded for it.

 _Oompth!_ Suddenly, I collided with something solid, and before I could catch my breath, I hit the cold, hard pavement. My old book bag fell open, and my belongings scattered everywhere. Hurriedly, I rose to my knees and tried to gather all of my things before they were trampled. Someone knelt beside me and helped me, and once everything was back in my bag, I turned to thank them but froze when I saw the familiar face. _Erik._

"You!" I cried, humiliated. "It had to be you!"

His eyebrow arched. "If it offends you so much that I helped you, we can always throw your belongings back onto the sidewalk." When I only glared in return, he rose to his feet and extended his hand. For the first time, I noticed that he wore black gloves. I suppose I stared for too long because he impatiently added, "You might have all of the time in the world, but I do not, so would you please be kind enough to stand?"

There was nothing else to do but accept his offer, so I took his hand and rose unsteadily to my feet. The moment I was standing, he quickly withdrew his hand the way people do when they are forced to touch something repulsive. "Thank you," I told him stiffly. I turned to walk away, anxious to get home.

"You wouldn't be nearly so clumsy if you didn't stare at the ground while you walk," came his voice from beside me. I glanced over to see him walking next to me. Infuriated, I halted and faced him. "What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Walking you home," he answered as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

"No, you're not!" To my horror, all of the humiliation from early and my current frustration proved to be too much for me, and I burst into tears. Erik jumped in surprise, then shifted uncomfortably as I sobbed. "Oh, do stop," he snapped, but then, he offered me a handkerchief. I blew my nose into it and forced myself to calm down, taking several deep breaths. "Now, what can be so bad that you would start crying in public?" he inquired.

"I was on my way home to cry," was my muffled reply, my face still buried in the handkerchief.

"Whatever would you do that for?" he asked.

"I had a bad day!" I replied, no longer caring that I didn't like him. I _needed_ to talk to someone, and Erik was the only person there. "I was going to audition for a solo at school, but when I raised my hand… everyone laughed at me. Everyone always laughs at me. They act it shouldn't hurt me, like I'm not even a human with human feelings. But… but it does! Sometimes, I wonder if something is wrong with me!" Tears began pooling in my eyes again, but I bit my lip and fought against them. I couldn't cry anymore in front of Erik. I bowed my head, waiting for his scathing reply.

"I understand," he said instead. His voice was softer now, all trace of scorn and mockery gone. It was smooth and warm rather cold and devoid of emotion. I'd never heard it sound so… _appealing._ "Being laughed at is never easy, especially at your tender age."

I lifted my eyes, and they met his dark ones. "My best friend pushes me to stand up to them, but that's just not my way," I confided shyly. "She lectured me for backing out of my audition. I just… I get paralyzed when people start laughing. They make me feel like I'm not supposed to exist, that it would be better if I didn't exist."

Something flashed across his face, something that had so much darkness that I took a step back unwittingly. "Never say that," he commanded, his voice barely concealing… fury? "Never apologize for being alive. People will laugh, but don't you dare allow them to steal your dignity."

"Ummm… okay?" I offered uncertainly.

The moment passed, and he smirked in the way that infuriated me so much. "Of course, it's hard to have dignity when you're on the ground on a public sidewalk," he jibed, becoming the arrogant man I fiercely disliked once again.

"Geez, you're a great motivational speaker," I responded sarcastically. I started walking again, eager to reach home. "That's a quote I'm going to put up on my bedroom wall."

The corners of his mouth twitched into a smile so brief that I wasn't sure if I imagined it. "Just so," was all he said. We walked the rest of the way in silence. At first, it was uncomfortable, but as we fell in stride, I relaxed slightly. It was sort of… nice, having this strange companionship as I walked home. I still wasn't overly fond of him, but at least I wasn't alone, and at least he wasn't pressuring me to talk.

When our house was in sight, I stopped. "That's my house," I told him. "Thanks for walking with me."

He gazed at my house, and I sensed he didn't like what he saw. He opened his mouth as though to say something, stopped himself, and then said, "Are you certain you can make it to the front door without falling again?"

I glared at him. _Just when I was almost enjoying his company, he has to say something rude again._ "I'll make sure that if I do, you're not within eyesight," I retorted. Then, I mustered what little _dignity_ I had left and walked away. I kept waiting to hear his laughter behind me, but to my relief, none came.

 **Posted on September 9, 2015**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

I avoided Meg the next day. She had tried to call me several times, and when I didn't answer, she resorted to texting. I was too upset to respond. I already felt rotten enough, and her lecturing me in the moment I needed a friend the most stung. She'd failed me as a friend, and I was just too hurt to pretend nothing had happened. I brought a sandwich from home to avoid sitting with her in the cafeteria, opting to sit in a bathroom stall and read _Beauty_ while I ate. Yet, even my favorite book couldn't cheer me.

Dejectedly, I made my way to the library after class. Mama Valerius smiled when she saw me, but I immediately went to my chair and curled up in it. I didn't cry; instead, I sat there with my eyes clenched shut, shivering in the cold, damp air and wallowing in my misery. If I didn't have Meg, then who _did_ I have? My aunt and uncle, yes, but I desperately needed a friend. I needed to share all of my troubles without fear of being a burden. At the end of the day, I knew I'd reply to Meg and we would still be friends, but things were shifting between us. I was her best friend, but she was showing that she wasn't truly _my_ best friend, and the thought made my stomach churn and my head throb.

I don't know how much time passed before I heard footsteps approaching. I peeked and saw Erik standing there. Groaning, I closed my eyes again. Although he had been… nice the day before, I didn't expect him to be anything other than his infuriating self now. "Go away," I said out of habit, even though I knew he wouldn't leave. Erik wasn't one to take orders from sixteen-year-old girls.

"You're being awfully melodramatic about this whole thing," he replied, unmoving.

"Am I?" I answered in turn, my voice still muffled as I refused to move from my comforting position.

"Yes." His voice was closer now. Startled, I opened my eyes to see that he was crouching next to my chair, making his eyes level with mine. I'd always been too nervous to make eye contact with him, as I'd assumed his gaze would be patronizing. Yet, that wasn't the case. His brown eyes held… sympathy? _No, not sympathy,_ my mind supplied. _Compassion._ For some odd reason, I felt as though he understood me completely. All at once antsy, I looked away, a familiar heat in my cheeks.

"What?" he asked, watching me curiously.

I shook my head. _No way._

When I didn't answer him, he sighed and stood and extended his hand. "Come," he bid me. "I cannot abide self-pity."

I looked at his offered hand warily. "Where are we going?"

He huffed impatiently. "Trust me," he snapped.

"That's a great way to get someone to trust you." His eyes narrowed, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch slightly. Aggravating him was just a little more fun than it ought to have been. "Miss Daaè, _please,"_ he conceded grudgingly. I moved out of my comfortable position and sat upright, giving him a real smile now. "Well, since you asked so nicely," I teased. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't withdraw his hand. Figuring it would be rude to refuse, I took it and allowed him to help me stand. The leather of his gloves was soft beneath my fingers, and I almost stroked the smooth surface before remembering that it was on Erik's hand. _That would have been too weird,_ I scolded myself, and quickly took my hand away.

I followed him downstairs to the computers. He pulled the chair out for me, which surprised me so much that I was frozen with confusion until he huffed impatiently. I quickly sat and watched as he pulled over his own chair. "I remember you stating that you like sacred music, but is there any other music that you enjoy?"

I didn't even have to think about my answer. "Piano sonatas." My father used to play for me when I was upset, so the sound of a slow sonata had always been soothing to me.

Erik nodded. "Close your eyes," he instructed.

I glanced at him, unsure if I was willing to obey. "I don't think –"

"Oh, come now, Miss Daaè." Always that impatience, always that manner of speaking that made me feel like I was a small child once again. "What do you think might happen? That I will conjure a ghost to jump out at you from the computer?" He sounded so serious that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Still, I obliged him and closed my eyes. I heard his fingers moving across the keyboard, and then, I heard gentle piano music playing. I recognized the piece instantly: Beethoven's Sonata No. 8, second movement, which is known as the "Pathètique." This was the exact piece my father would play for me in the moments of my greatest despair. _Strange how this is the one Erik picked,_ I thought, but soon, I was too lost in the music to think anything. The familiar notes slowly eased my sadness, tenderly cleansing me of the tears I dare not shed.

When the piece ended, I opened my eyes to find Erik watching me. "You know the piece," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I affirmed. "My father used to play it for me often. It was one of our favorites."

He nodded, seeming unsurprised by this new information. "You told me he was a pianist. Do you play?"

"Not well," I admitted, looking at my fidgeting hands. "I know the basics, but unfortunately, his gift of playing didn't pass to me. I always sang instead."

"Yes, you're in your school choir." He flicked his wrist, brushing this aside as though it was of no consequence. "Do you intend to study music?"

I laughed, one short "ha" that had no real mirth behind it. "I wish," I replied. "It's too expensive. I need to major in something useful."

He frowned. Apparently, my answer displeased him. "Music _is_ useful," he disagreed, "and it's a natural choice if you're from a musical family. You might not have training, but you _hear_ music and seem to have an understanding of it." I shook my head again, and he sneered. "What would you study instead?" he challenged. "Accounting?"

My face turned red. _How dare he!_ "I thank you for playing the Beethoven sonata for me, but that doesn't give you the right to offer input on _my_ life decisions. We are _not_ friends, and you don't know anything about me or what I should do."

We sat there for a few moments, glaring at each other, neither of us backing down. Then, he shrugged. "I don't care," he announced, standing to leave. "It isn't my mistake to make."

I didn't watch him as he left. Instead, I sat there, fuming. _How dare he,_ I thought again. _He has no right to say those things! He has no right to… to…_ I slammed my hand on the desk in frustration, furious with Erik for daring to be the only one to say what my father would have said had he been there.

Grabbing my things, I left the library without saying goodbye to Mrs. Valerius. My anger was burning so intensely that I almost didn't notice the cold outside as I marched home. _He's wrong,_ I told myself with every step I took. _He doesn't know me or my life. Who is he to try to plan my future?_

I was still fuming when I entered the house. I found Aunt Joy in the kitchen helping Sarah with her homework. "Hi, sweetie. How was your day?" she asked, looking up to smile at me. Then, when she saw me, her expression changed to one of concern. "What's wrong, Christine?"

"Aunt Joy," I began, fiddling with the zipper of my thin jacket. "Am I making a mistake by wanting to go to school and studying accounting?"

She smiled again. "No, sweetie, you're not," she said gently. "You're being an adult and doing what's best for your future."

I smiled back. "Thanks," I told her. "I just needed to hear it. I'll be up in my room."

"Dinner is in an hour!" she called after me as I ran up the stairs. I didn't stop to answer her; instead, I went to my bedroom, closed my door, and sank onto my bed without bothering to remove my jacket. There. It was done. Erik was wrong. I was doing just as my aunt said: safeguarding my future. I would just have to put his opinions out of my mind, no matter how much they echoed my father's. I would have to put _both_ of them out of my mind.

 **Posted on September 16, 2015**


	10. Chapter Ten

**I'm so sorry for the delayed update. I've had a rough couple of weeks in school, and I also have to regularly write stories for class, too, so there's that. I'll work to stay on top of things.**

 **Chapter Ten**

It was my third day eating lunch in the bathroom when Meg decided to intervene. I was sitting in the stall furthest from the door when I heard it open. I froze, hoping no one would find me sitting there with a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The intruder took a few steps, and when I risked a peek, I saw the boots were Meg's.

"Open the door," she demanded. I didn't answer, instead opting to take a bite of my lunch.

"Come on, Christine. I know you're in there." Her boots moved closer. "I'm not leaving until you talk to me," she announced. When I still didn't answer, she dropped to the ground and slid under the stall door. "Yuck," she commented as she sat across from me. "You better be glad you're my best friend."

"What do you want?" I asked tonelessly, wanting to get this conversation over with so I could read.

"Why are you mad at me?"

I stared at her for several long moments, certain she had to be joking. Yet, she genuinely seemed confused. _"Seriously?"_ I managed. "You can't think of any reason I might be upset?"

"No, I don't! But, if you would tell me –" she stopped when she saw the look on my face. I continued to stare at her in disbelief, and she didn't try to say anything else. No excuses, no apologies… nothing. _"That's_ why I'm upset, Meg," I told her, my voice cracking as tears filled my eyes. "You never notice how much you hurt me sometimes, and you never apologize."

"Christine, that's not fair!"

"No, it's not," I agreed, though my meaning was different than hers.

"You can't be –"

But, I'd had enough and pointed towards the stall door. "Get out of my stall," I whispered.

She watched me, waiting for me to change my mind, but I continued to point towards the door expectantly. Pressing her lips together angrily, she rose and stomped out of the bathroom, still never bothering to apologize or finding out why I'd been mad at her in the first place.

For the first time in my life, I skipped class, instead curled up on the ground crying over the loss of my best friend.

o0o

The warmth of the library couldn't ease the chill in my bones as I went upstairs. Looking around, I saw my spot was empty, but at the moment, that didn't matter to me. I was desperate to talk to someone, _anyone,_ and there was only one person I could think of who would take the time to talk to a sixteen-year-old, even if it was to irritate her. I wanted to be irritated, angry, or… _something_ other than hurting.

I found Erik in the smallest, darkest corner of the second floor, several books scattered around him and a notebook in his lap. "Hi," I began uncertainly. Too late I remembered that we hadn't parted on the best of terms.

He continued reading as though he hadn't heard me. Clearing my throat, I opened my mouth to speak again.

"Clearing your throat is bad for your voice," he said without looking up.

"Oh! You heard me." I smiled sheepishly. "Ummm… how are you?"

"Busy," he replied shortly.

"Doing what?" I asked, trying to see the title of the book. He shifted slightly, keeping it out of my sight. I had a sneaking suspicion he did it on purpose. "Work," he told me. "Work that is far too important to be interrupted by a whiny child."

I took a step back, shocked. Erik had been rude to me before, but he had never so deliberately insulted me. _He must be angry about me snapping at him the other day,_ I decided. _I did act a bit childish._ I took a deep breath and decided to make amends. "Listen, if this is about the other day –"

"Miss Daaè." He looked at me disdainfully over his book. "As you said yourself, we are not friends. I'm a busy man and don't have the time or patience to amuse you today, so go and play elsewhere."

 _Play?_ I thought indignantly. I was prepared to tell him off, but then, I realized he was absorbed in his book again. Without a word, I walked away. I grabbed my opera anthology and sat in my spot, my fingers trembling with anger. I'd been called many things at school, but no insult had ever stung so much. I knew I wasn't the child Erik believed me to be, but hurt nonetheless for him to think it of me.

I was reading about _Le nozze di Figaro_ when Erik finally emerged from his work corner. "Good afternoon, Miss Daaè," he greeted as though nothing had happened. "Which opera is it today?"

I peeked over the top of my anthology. "Oh, you're speaking to me now?" I asked with feigned surprise.

"I have finished my work," was the only excuse he offered.

"So, you have time to spare for the child now?" I wasn't being very gracious, but my feelings were hurt by his earlier behavior.

He walked away, and for a moment, I thought I'd driven him away. I was trying to decide whether or not that was a good thing when he returned with a chair. "No! That wasn't an invitation to sit down!" I exclaimed, the opera anthology falling into my lap.

"I know," he replied as he sat across from me. "You will excuse me for sitting anyway."

"I will?" I was about to make another snarky comment when his eyes narrowed. In the short time I'd known him, I had learned that the best option for me when he did that was to shut up. So, I sat there silently, biting my lip nervously as he studied me. I was beginning to think he was staring just to unnerve me when he said, "I'm sorry."

My mouth fell open stupidly. "You're sorry?" I echoed, certain I'd misunderstood him.

"I apologize for my rudeness," he repeated without a trace of insincerity. "When I'm working, I'm not very gracious when I'm interrupted, I'm afraid." He offered a small smile. "There, now. You can stop scowling. I wasn't trying to punish you for the other day." When I still didn't say anything, he added, "Am I forgiven, then?"

I couldn't help myself. I smiled at him. It had been a long day, and I was too weary emotionally from my fight with Meg to fight with anyone else. "Yeah, you're forgiven," I told him. "Sorry for snapping at you the other day."

He shrugged. "I'm not offended as easily as you are." I raised my eyebrows but chose to overlook his comment. "What?" he said, his voice teasing, "no death glare?"

I shook my head. "I've already lost one friend today," I told him. "I'd rather not lose another so soon."

I didn't fully realized what I'd said until I heard his quick intake of breath. Realizing what I'd said, I started to apologize, but instead, something entirely different escaped from my mouth: "Yeah, friends."

Another long moment. Then, he smiled again, but this time, there was no sense of teasing anywhere in his features. "Then friends we shall be, Miss Daaè."

 **Posted on October 1, 2015**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**I know it has been far too long, and this chapter is a short one, but please bear with me. My semester is finally settling down after the most hectic month EVER, so I'll be posting more regularly. Thank you for all of your patience.**

 **Chapter Eleven**

Erik is without a doubt the strangest friend I've ever had. Things weren't much different at first. I would offer him a shy hello, and he would reply in his unusual disgruntled manner. Yet, as the afternoons in the library would tick by, he would warm up to me a little bit. He would have an interesting tidbit to add to whatever opera I was reading about, or he would have a new piece to share with me. After a couple of weeks, he brought another chair to my reading corner, and we would sit there quietly, engrossed in our books yet not alone. There wasn't a need for conversation; just knowing that someone else was there was nice. But, when we did talk, he always inquired about school and choir. Little by little, I found myself telling him about my life, my likes and dislikes, my hopes and fears. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, for he listened without interrupting. It was completely different from talking to Meg, who always steered the conversation back towards herself. I worried that he would grow tired of me, but he never expressed anything other than genuine interest.

The only time I annoyed him was when I decided to ask about his personal life. I was curious about Erik, and I assumed that all people like to talk about themselves at one point or another.

He instantly shot me down. "That is not a topic open for discussion, Miss Daaè."

"Why not?" I foolishly pressed, unaware of the frown growing on his face. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"That doesn't give you the right to pry," he snapped. Taken aback, I recoiled into my seat. "I'm... I'm sorry," I murmured, mortified. When he didn't reply, I hung my head. "I didn't mean to pry," I continued. "I just... you always ask about me, so..."

He sighed. "It's quite alright, Miss Daaè," he finally said. "You didn't know any better. I only ask that you refrain from asking such questions in the future. I'm a very private person and wish to remain so."

Although I gave him my word, it didn't set right with me. How was I supposed to be with friends with someone who wanted to know everything about me but was so secretive about his own life? Once again, I felt lonely, but I just opened my book and curled back up in my chair. I didn't want to hear that I was a silly child again. I already felt foolish enough.

o0o

I've never liked school. Classes don't bother me (excepting science classes); I've actually always enjoyed learning. It's the social aspect of school that I've always hated. I was an outcast, a target for teasing who was relentlessly tortured with jibes that went beyond the "Frizz" nickname. When it came to school, Meg was my only comfort. At the very least, I had one friend and didn't have to eat lunch by myself. That was my tiny ray of sunshine in the dark, terrifying world of high school. I believed school couldn't be any worse than it already was, but then, I lost Meg. After our fight, I had absolutely no one at school. I forced myself to eat in the lunchroom one time. I sat in the corner, praying she would own up to her actions and come sit with me. Instead, she sat with her bowling alley friends and refused to look at me. After that, I didn't eat there anymore. I became used to slinking away to the bathroom and sitting on the cold, hard ground. I told myself that this didn't bother me, and surprisingly, it didn't bother me as much as it should.

What bothered me was chemistry lab, for Meg and I were still partners. We worked in silence, only speaking when absolutely necessary. Once, I tried to bridge the gap between us. "Meg," I began.

"Pass the next slide, please," she requested coldly. Instantly, I shut down and passed the slide without a word. As soon as lab ended, she grabbed her things and left, not bothering to help me clean up. So, I began doing everything myself, not noticing a second pair of hands until I bumped into the owner of them. "Oh!" I exclaimed as I met Raoul de Chagny's eyes. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," he said, smiling kindly. "I couldn't help but notice that she just ran off without helping you, so I thought I'd help."

"Wow. Ummm, thanks," was my eloquent reply.

"Are you guys okay?" he asked as he cleaned.

"Not really," I admitted. "I didn't think anyone noticed us."

"It's hard not to notice when someone looks as miserable as you do."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say. This was only the second time I'd spoken with him in the eight years we'd had classes together. And, I wasn't used to talking to boys. There was only Erik, but he didn't exactly count.

"Well, I'll see you later," he said as he picked up his belongings. "Keep your head up, okay? I'm sure everything will be okay."

"Thanks. See you around." As I watched him walk away, the smile on my face was so small that it was barely discernible... but it was my first real smile at school in days.

 **Posted on November 6, 2015**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

To no one's surprise, Carlotta Guidicelli was given the "O Holy Night" solo. She was a junior, like me, and she was the lead soprano in our choir. Any time there was a descant or a first soprano part, she sang it. I often sat there, a mixture of jealousy and admiration, as her voice soared above everyone else's.

As we performed _Ave Verum Corpus_ for the school, I glanced at her. Somehow, she managed to sing and showcase her sparkling white teeth at the same time. Maybe that was my problem; I should smile more. I thought _Ave Verum Corpus_ was a serious piece, but the lead soprano was smiling. Then again, I didn't want to risk anyone looking at me, so I kept my head low and only watched Dr. Kirkland.

Once the performance was through, I was gathering my belongings in the choir room when I heard quiet laughter. Cocking my head, I heard, "And her dress! It's so old I think my grandmother could have worn it!"

"It doesn't help that it doesn't fit her at all," came another. "She really does look quite dreadful. At least she stands in the back row."

Suddenly, I realized they were talking about _me._ Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Carlotta and her two best friends standing in the corner, talking about me as if I wasn't there. I glanced down at my worn black dress. It _was_ very old, but it was the only black dress I could afford. I couldn't buy one as lovely as Carlotta's, or as obviously expensive. Head down, I brushed past them, earning more laughter.

My aunt and uncle greeted me outside the choir room with my cousins. "Good job, sweetie!" Aunt Joy said cheerfully. "You guys sounded great!"

Uncle Mark wrapped his arm around me. "Wanna go home and grab some hot chocolate?" he asked, squeezing me warmly. "We were going to let the girls stay up a little late for this special occasion."

I smiled at them, trying my best to hide the fact that it was strained. "I'll be along in a little while," I told them. "I want to stop by the church first."

"The church?" Uncle Mark frowned. "Christine, it's already dark outside..."

"So don't be too long," my aunt finished. Uncle Mark began to protest, but she placed her hand on his chest. "You have your phone?" she asked. I nodded, and she smiled, her eyes filled with understanding. Thanking them, I rushed out into the cold night air, only remembering I'd forgotten my coat when I was halfway to the church. The setting sun offered no warmth, and the cold stung my eyes as I hurried through the empty streets. When I reached the church, I slipped through the wooden door. The church remains unlocked for the homeless during the winter. Peeking around, I saw that the sanctuary was empty at the moment, to my relief. I sat on one of the pews and rested my head in my hands as sorrow claimed me and leaked out of my eyes. What had I ever done to those girls to warrant such cruelty? I lived my life quietly, taking care to stay out of everyone's way; yet, somehow, my existence still seemed to offend people. Wanting to audition for the "O Holy Night" solo had certainly caused an uproar. I should have known it was a mistake, but that song meant the world to me. My mother used to sing it in church, and ever since I was little, that was my favorite moment of the Christmas season. Father would accompany her on the piano, his eyes shining with adoration, only looking away from her to smile at me.

The need to feel my parent's love was overwhelming, and before I could stop myself, I began to sing quietly. "O holy night, the stars are brightly shining . . . " At first, my voice shook with the force of my sobs, but soon, the familiar words and notes began to take over, and my voice became clearer.

"Fall on your knees! O, hear the angel voices!" I was convinced that I could hear my parent's voices joining mine, my mother's gorgeous soprano and my father's uncertain yet cheerful baritone. For the first time since my parents died, I sang without critiquing myself or wincing. I just sang everything that was in my heart, my pain, my loneliness, and longing, and for a few moments, all of that vanished, and I smiled through my tears.

"O night divine!" I finished. Then, slowly, I came back down to reality, and my sobs overtook me again.

I don't know how long I sat like that before he approached me. One moment, I was lost in my own despair, and then, the sound of footsteps broke through. I lifted my face to be greeted by none other than Erik's.

"What do you want?" I asked, for once my guard completely lowered. I didn't care what he thought of me or if he laughed. I was too empty to care.

He didn't answer right away. He stood there, his brow furrowed. He was looking at me differently, as if he'd never seen me before. When he did answer, his voice was soft. "I want to give you voice lessons."

I laughed. "Seriously? You find a girl alone in a church crying her eyes out, and you still can't resist mocking her?"

"I'm not mocking you. I want to teach you to sing."

Anger began stirring within me, and I met his eyes. "All I wanted was a few moments alone to remember my parents, and you have to come in here thinking you're some kind of . . . angel of music or something and –"

"Miss Daaè." He knelt before my and took my cold hands. I was too shocked to pull away. "I'm being completely sincere. I'm not making fun of you, nor do I mean to insult you. I only mean to offer you a gift."

I stared at him helplessly. "Why?" was all I could say.

"You need a teacher," he said simply. "You have much work to do, but your potential . . . your voice could be exquisite if only it is given the proper instruction."

"What's the point? I need to spend all of my time studying so I can go to college. I have to work so I won't become a burden to my aunt and uncle, and . . . I can't pay you."

"I don't expect payment. I only expect you to work hard." I started to speak, and he held up a finger to silence me. "Music is important to you. I know you have worries, but you also have pain. If you learn to sing, perhaps that would ease the pain. Perhaps it would even help you remember your parents."

We sat for several long moments in silence, my head spinning. Voice lessons? How could I ever accept them? Erik and I were only just learning to be civil to each other. And, it would take up some of my limited time . . .

But what if he was right? What if music helped me remember my parents? Sometimes, I had trouble seeing their faces, hearing their voices. The memories were slowly slipping away, and I was desperate to hang on to them. They were all I had left.

I met Erik's eyes again. Though his expression was calm, his eyes were wide and uncertain. _Pleading._ This should have deterred me, but the longing for my parents was too strong to heed the warning in my heart.

"Okay."

 **Posted on June 10, 2016**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

I was a mess the next day. I couldn't concentrate on anything, not even _Beauty_ during lunch. _Voice lessons._ I was actually going to have voice lessons! I never thought I'd be able to have them, seeing as how there's no way I could ever afford them. True, I was curious about how Erik expected me to pay him, but I decided to not worry about it right now.

We hadn't set a time or place for my lessons yet, but I was to meet him at the library directly after school. The moment the bell rang, I grabbed my bag and went there. Erik was waiting for me in my chair, but for once, I didn't start an argument over it. "So, when do we begin?" I asked excitedly.

"Come with me," was his mysterious reply. He rose, and I followed him back down the stairs and through the front door. A sleek black car was waiting nearby. _What the . . ._ I stopped, suddenly anxious. Erik kept walking and opened one of the back doors, only then noticing I hadn't moved.

"Well, are you coming?" he asked impatiently. "We don't have very long. I can't imagine your aunt and uncle will appreciate you staying out too late."

"So, you just want me to get in the car with you, even though I don't know where we're going? That isn't supposed to strike me as odd at all?"

He huffed. "We are going to the church. It's quite cold, and the library isn't far from your school. The church is too far away for you to walk there in this weather. Now, will you please get in the car?"

"Okay, okay." I slid into the car, and he closed the door behind me. The warmth was nice, and I started to relax. Then, the other back door opened, and Erik came to sit beside me. It was only then I noticed another man was sitting in the driver's seat, separated from us by a panel of glass. Erik closed his door, and I raised my eyebrows. "A driver? Really? Do you not have a license?"

"I do, but I find driving tiresome. Now, buckle your seat belt." He leaned forward and pushed a button in front of his seat. "Jacques, could you play some music, please?"

"Yes sir," came a voice from a speaker in the ceiling. "What would you prefer to hear?"

Erik turned to me. "What would you like to listen to, Miss Daaè?"

"Ummm . . . Debussy, please?" I requested timidly. Within moments, the first movement of _La mer_ began playing. "Thank you."

"Lesson number one: avoid exposure to cold weather. It's bad for your health and your voice."

Ah. Of course his courtesy was tied to my voice. Well, it didn't surprise me. If he was going to be my voice teacher, he would naturally want to preserve it. Erik didn't strike me as the type of person who would invest in something and not control it, to some extent.

As the minutes passed, I tried to forget the fact that I'd never been so close to him. I'd never taken the time to really _look_ at him. I was usually too busy trying to think of a retort or preventing him from getting the best of me. But he was just sitting there next to me, silent, looking out of his window, so I couldn't help myself. There was the mask, of course, which was one of the first things I'd ever noticed about him, but I couldn't see it with him looking out the window. No, for the first time, I was examining the unmasked side of his face. His eyes were dark, he was clean-shaven, and the fold of his turtleneck was impeccable, which is a something I envied. To my surprise, he looked younger than I'd believed him to be. True, there were slight lines around his eyes, but there was no silver in his hair, no weakness in his frame.

 _He's handsome._ The thought was unbidden, and my cheeks instantly flushed. Yet, it was true: from what I could see of his face, it was a handsome one. Not the typical Hollywood movie star type of handsome, either; more like a character by Jane Austen or a Gothic novel. He had an old-fashioned pride and dignity that I couldn't help but find appealing. At least, until he sneered and said something to remind me how very young and foolish I was.

The car stopped moving, and I looked out my window. We were in front of the church. As I gathered my belongings, the door opened. I turned to see Erik holding it open for me. "Thanks," I murmured. He nodded and turned to the driver. "Pick us up in one hour. Then, we will take Miss Daaè home." Then, the car was gone, and Erik was beside me again. "Shall we?"

"You know, you don't have to take me home," I said as we entered the church. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

"Nonsense," he replied. "If I am to be your teacher, I will not have you wrecking your voice." He led us to the piano and told me to stand in the crook facing him. His fingers ran up and down the keys, and then, he said, "Sing for me."

So, I sang. Scales, arpeggios, various other warm-ups. Then, he had me sight-read a few hymns. And, nervous as I was when we started, I had to admit he was completely professional while he was sitting at that piano. He never gave me any further instructions other than what to sing; he only listened without remarking on my technique. Before I knew it, he was packing up, and it was time for us to leave. We were walking towards the door when I finally asked, "So?"

"So what?"

I rolled my eyes. "What did you think?"

"Despite bad posture, virtually no breath support, and many other technical problems, you have a good ear, you seem to catch on quickly, and you have natural talent that can be polished over time."

A thought struck me, and I laughed. His expression remained solemn, so when I calmed down, I explained, "Sorry. I was just thinking that maybe next year, I'll actually audition for a solo. I don't know if she would give the 'O Holy Night' solo to an alto."

"Mezzo-soprano."

"What?"

"The term is 'mezzo-soprano.' The world 'alto' is strictly a choir term. Either way, you're not one."

I stopped in my tracks. "I . . . I'm a soprano?"

Seeing I'd fallen behind him again, he sighed and walked back to stand in front of me. "Could you please keep walking for once?" he asked, exasperated. "Yes, you are a soprano. You never should have been placed in the alto section, but I suspect you were because you have a good ear."

"So, do I need to swap to the soprano section in choir?"

He shook his yet. "Not yet. You have already learned the music for this semester, and it wouldn't be fair to change parts now. Stay in the alto section for the rest of the year to build your ear and sight-singing skills. Then, next year, you will move to the soprano section where you belong. Now, can we please proceed to the car? Jacques has been waiting, and it's growing late."

My head spinning, I followed him to the car and wordlessly slid into my seat. _A soprano._ Could the "O Holy Night" solo be somewhere in my future, after all? I could just imagine the proud look on my mother's face if I sang it, how she would smile upon me from heaven.

" Miss Daaè? Did you hear me?" Erik's voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to him. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"I said that you must not tell any one of these lessons."

My heart sank just as quickly as it had risen. "Why not?"

"Trust me, it is better this way. Would your aunt and uncle truly support you taking lessons from me?"

"That's not fair," I argued. "They don't know you."

He laughed without humor. "I don't know if you have noticed, Miss Daaè, but I'm not in the business of making new acquaintances. I also don't want any of your little high school friends asking for lessons. I will not waste my time on mediocrity."

"Alright, alright! I won't tell anyone, okay? Relax."

"Your lessons will be held three times a week, no exceptions. I must warn you, Miss Daaè, that I will not go easy on you. I will expect you to work hard, and I will not always be kind. Do you think you are capable of rising to the challenge?'

Did I? Could I really handle being under Erik's tutelage, meeting with him frequently for him to tell me everything I was doing wrong? Was music that important to me?"

It didn't take me long to answer. "Yes."

His mouth twitched, almost as if he was going to smile. "Good." Pleased with my answer, he didn't talk to me the rest of the ride home, allowing me to think my thoughts. When we pulled to the front of my house, I started to get out, but he grabbed my hand. "Remember, Miss Daaè: not a word." Then, he let go, and the car pulled away.

My aunt was setting the table when I walked through the door. "You're home late," she observed. "Where have you been?'

My mouth suddenly became dry. I had never lied to her. "I was at the library." There. The words came out easily enough.

She nodded sympathetically. "I know it makes you happy, that little world of books. Now, tell me: do you have a solo in the Christmas program?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, that's too bad, honey. Well, perhaps next year."

"Yeah . . . next year." Definitely.

 **Posted on September 27, 2016**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**This one is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

For once, I wasn't reading for pleasure in the library. I had my blue notebook in my lap. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus. The last thing I needed was a bad grade on this test.

"Would you please stop fidgeting?" Erik glared at me over the top of his book. "I'm beginning to regret placing my chair here. I should have made you find another place to sit."

"Can't. It's my chair." Usually, I would've engaged in the ensuing debate, but I didn't have time. I needed to head home before too long. On the days I didn't have lessons, I tried to get home a little bit earlier so my aunt and uncle wouldn't ask questions.

A month had passed, but try as I might, I still felt guilty keeping my lessons a secret from them. However, glancing at Erik, I had to admit he was right: they would take one look at him and tell me to stay away. And, even if they didn't, his brusque manner would soon convince them that he was bad for me.

"What are you studying?"

"Chemistry. I have a test tomorrow." I peered at my notes again.

"Perhaps I can help." His voice startled me. I looked up and saw that he was standing in front of my chair. "Don't do that!" I complained. "I don't know how you can creep from place to place without making a sound, but don't do it!"

He pulled his chair directly next to mine. "Show me your notes," he instructed. He was using his "teacher voice," which meant there was no getting out of it. I shoved my notebook towards him. "Be my guest."

After a few moments of reading, he said, "Your notes are good, so what is the problem?"

"I don't understand any of it."

"What do you not understand about it?'

"I don't know! I don't even know what I don't know!"

Erik just sat there and watched me until I managed to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried. I need to make a good grade."

"You don't seem like the kind of student who makes bad grades. Why are you falling apart over one test in one subject?"

"College. I need to have good grades in all of my classes in order to earn a scholarship."

"Oh, yes. College . . . to fulfill your dreams of being an accountant."

It was my turn to glare at him. "Are you going to help me or not? Because if you're not, I'd like to be alone, please."

"Do you have a pencil?" he asked. I handed him one, and he turned to a blank page in my notebook. "Now, you have all of the formulas in your notes, but you seem to have trouble understanding how they work. If you take . . ." And then, he explained everything that Mr. Caldwell had failed to explain. He was patient with me, never chiding me when I had difficulty understanding something, and he actually answered all of my questions.

By the time we were finished, I had three missed calls from my aunt and a text. _Call me. Now._ That's when I noticed that the lights were being turned out. "It's already 6:00!" I exclaimed. "The library is closing."

We both gathered our belongings and headed out the door. I waved at Mrs. Valerius as she locked the door behind us, and then, I called my aunt back. "Aunt Joy, hi! I'm sorry I missed your call . . . I know, and I'm sorry. I was being tutored for my chemistry test tomorrow and lost track of time." At least it wasn't a lie. "Yes ma'am, I'm sorry for not letting you know. Yes, I'm on my way home. I'll be there soon. Love you, too." I hung up. Erik was standing there expectantly. "Thank you for helping me study, but I really do have to go."

"The sun is setting, Miss Daaè. I will take you home."

"No, seriously. It's fine. I –" It was only then I noticed the black car was waiting. He must have called it while I called Aunt Joy. Biting my lip, I allowed Erik to open the door for me. When he was sitting beside me, I said, "Thanks. For helping earlier."

"No need to thank me, Miss Daaè. You catch on quickly. I think if your teacher had adequately taught the material, you would have been fine."

My cheeks warmed from the unexpected compliment. "Why _did_ you help me?" I inquired. "You don't seem like the type who tutors teenagers in his spare time."

He didn't answer at first. I thought he hadn't heard me and was about to repeat my question when he said, "You spend your time worrying about a great deal, Miss Daaè. I only wanted to ease your burden. Besides, if you receive a bad grade in chemistry and are grounded, how will we continue your lessons?"

"Good point." We were pulling up to the house, and I once again gathered my things. "Thanks again!" I called out as I raced towards the house. When I turned, I noticed the black car was still there and didn't pull away until I closed the front door.

 **Posted on September 30, 2016**


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**So, I know it has been *forever,* and I'm so sorry. My time at school is coming to an end, so I should be able to write something besides essays (finally). Please forgive my long absence, and accept this long-overdue chapter as an apology.**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

"Alright, people!" The moment you've all been waiting for." Mr. Caldwell held up the stack of graded tests. The class took a collective breath, and he smiled cynically. "Now, for those of you who made less than stellar grades – and it's a large number of you – don't be too discouraged. There's still a chance that you'll pass this course if you actually study next time." Then, he began dropping the tests unceremoniously onto our desks. "Your usual, Miss Giry," he said as he delivered Meg's test. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her wince. Meg's test grades were never great, and from her expression, I could tell that this one had been particularly bad for her. Sensing that someone was watching her, she met my gaze. I smiled, trying to be encouraging, but she just scowled and looked away.

"A surprise from you, Miss Daaè!" my chemistry teacher exclaimed as my test hit my desk. Silently praying, I took a peek . . .

 _96._

I wanted to cry. I was so happy! I had never made an A on a chemistry test before! I grinned and looked up to see that Raoul was watching me. His grin matched mine, and he gave me a thumbs-up. I was so giddy that I returned the gesture without thinking.

"Get a room, you two," I heard. Turning, I caught Meg's resentful glare. Carlotta Guidicelli, who had been pouting only moments ago, laughed loudly, and her posse quickly followed her lead. My face turned scarlet, and I spent the rest of the class looking at my desk in humiliation. _I can't believe Meg said that,_ was my only focus. Even if she was mad at me, I never thought she would embarrass me in front of the school bullies. I didn't think she was capable of such meanness.

The moment the bell rang, I grabbed my things and bolted for the door.

Meg followed me. "So, you've been holding out on me, huh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied. Though my tone was indifferent, her behavior stung. I reached my locker and began trading out my books. She still didn't leave. I fumbled with my history textbook, and it went crashing to the ground. I bent over to pick it up, but Meg's black combat boot pressed it firmly to the ground. I sighed. "Meg, please let me have my book," I said quietly.

She ignored me. "I don't get it. You've always struggled in chemistry. You don't make good grades on the tests. And yet, you somehow manage to make an A on this test."

"I studied really hard," was my feeble answer. I tried to pull my textbook free again, but it didn't budge.

"You _always_ studied really hard," she retorted. "You want to know what I think? I think you did this on purpose. I think you're a lot smarter than you let on, but you wanted me to spend time with you, so you _pretended_ be bad at chemistry."

My mouth fell open. _That's_ what she thought? She thought that I had faked all of my frustrations and anxieties just to get her to pay attention to me? I looked at the girl who was standing above me, my former best friend, and wondered if I'd ever really known her. Tears started pouring down my face. "What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?" I whispered.

For one moment, a look of sadness (or regret?) melted her expression, but then, she shook her head. "If you hadn't lied to me –"

"I _never_ lied to you, Meg!" I shouted. The conversation around us stopped, and every eye turned to us, but I didn't care. I was too upset. "I was tutored, okay? You, my lab partner, never wanted to study or work together, so I got help from an actual adult who actually knew what he was talking about!"

"He?" she repeated, and my face turned red. I'd made a mistake. Meg knew that I didn't talk to men, and she also knew that it wasn't my uncle because we'd both asked him for help before and he told us that he would only make it worse. "Who is he?" she demanded.

I bit my lip. "It doesn't matter. Now, please let me have my book; we're both going to be late to class."

"Fine." Then, she kicked my book. I crawled after it, trying to catch it, but it crashed into a locker on the other side of the hall. I reached out to get it, but a hand wrapped around its spine and lifted it. My eyes followed and was greeted by the concerned face of Raoul de Chagny. "Oh," I said miserably. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He extended his hand. My eyes widened, and I glanced around to see that we were the only ones in the hallway. When I looked at him again, he was grinning. "You know, when someone offers you their hand, they're trying to help you out, not set you up to be laughed at."

"Oh," I repeated. I quickly accepted his hand and let him help me to my feet.

"You certainly say 'oh' a lot."

"Oh . . . I mean, I'm sorry . . . I mean, thank you?" I stammered. I took my history textbook. "Just history repeating itself, I guess," I said lamely.

To my surprise, he laughed. "No problem." He opened his mouth to say more, but the warning bell rang, and I quickly said, "Bye! Thanks again!" and started walking towards my classroom.

"Any time." I almost didn't hear him add, "Christine."

I was so shocked that I stumbled into my history class. Carlotta and her minions giggled, but I didn't mind. Raoul actually knew my name . . .

o0o

"You're rather quiet this afternoon."

"Hmmm?" I replied, turning my gaze from the car window to meet Erik's eyes.

"I said, you're rather quiet this afternoon."

"I'm always quiet."

He sighed, frustrated. "Not like this."

"Why do you care?" I muttered.

"You are about to have a voice lesson," he said. "If you are upset and distracted, we will be wasting both of our time."

A few moments passed as I thought about this. I was still uncomfortable around Erik, as least, as far as conversation was concerned. Specifically, conversation about my feelings. Erik was an adult, and I was a teenage girl. We were, to say the least, at opposite ends of the emotional spectrum.

Still, he was right: if I couldn't focus during my lesson, I wouldwaste our time. And I had the distinct impression that Erik was the kind of person whose time I did _not_ want to waste. So, I took a deep breath and told him about what had transpired between myself and Meg. I explained how I had been left feeling lost at school, and I told him about her cruel comment in class earlier that day. I only stopped talking when I realized he was scowling. "What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed.

"Your _friend –"_ he didn't bother to mask his sarcasm when he said the word _friend –_ "doesn't deserve to be a part of your life."

"But she's my best friend," I reminded him. "I think I mentioned that earlier."

"No, she's not. She makes you feel rotten about yourself. She's trying to turn you into someone you're not, and she doesn't seem to be the least bit remorseful. Now, does that sound like a good friend to you, Miss Daaè?"

He was right, of course, and I hated it when he was right. I nodded and muttered, "I don't want to talk about it anymore." To my surprise, he didn't press me to talk any further, and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

By the end of my lesson, I had to admit that he was right about something else: since I'd talked about my ruined friendship with Meg on the way to my lesson, I was able to focus on the music and the techniques Erik was teaching me. We were still doing technique-builders, but I could tell how they were helping strengthen my voice. And, as I was about to leave the car when he was dropping me off, he commented, "Good lesson today," and it was enough to salvage that strange day.

 **Posted on November 11, 2017**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

It was a Tuesday, so I didn't have a voice lesson. I was free to go to the library, but instead of going to my usual spot, I went to the computers. The prompt for my English composition class paper sat in my lap, and I absently chewed on the end of my pen, pondering which topic to choose. We were discussing Shakespeare, and I had the option of writing about any of his plays as long as I could relate it to one of the prompts. I only had a week to read and write a five-page paper on the work I selected, so I wanted to pick my prompt first and do some research.

 _Discuss Shakespeare's opinions on love_ was the prompt I was leaning towards. I could discuss a number of his works: _Much Ado About Nothing, Twelfth Night, Romeo and Juliet . . ._ the possibilities were vast. I made a small star next to that prompt and begin searching for sources about _Romeo and Juliet_ and love. I was jotting down notes when I saw someone sit next to me out of my peripheral vision. "Can't you see I'm busy?" I asked, frustrated, for I knew it was Erik.

"Busy looking up information on Shakespeare's worst tragedy?" his cynical voice answered.

I stopped and turned to face him. He was smirking, as usual. _"Romeo and Juliet_ is a beautiful story," I said, hating how defensive I sounded. "And it fits the prompt that I've chosen."

"You chose the most cliché topic." He leaned over to read the rest of the prompts. I didn't stop him. He read them all before pointing at one. "This one. This would be much better."

 _Discuss one of Shakespeare's villains. Either justify their behavior or condemn it, using specific examples from one of his plays._ I frowned. "Why would I want to write about one of his villains?" _Especially when I've already read_ Romeo and Juliet, I added silently.

"Shakespeare's villains are more interesting than his star-crossed lovers. Or, in the case of _Romeo and Juliet,_ two misguided teenagers who threw away their lives."

"Why must you be so . . . so _cynical?"_ I asked in exasperation.

"To combat your naivety," was his condescending reply. "Of course, it's your paper, so you can choose the easiest prompt if you wish."

I glared at him. He _knew!_ He knew that I would defer to his suggestion, if only to prove him wrong. "Why do you –"

"Care," he finished for me. "You certainly ask that question often, don't you? But you need to be challenged. You need to see that you're capable of more than just the mundane."

"This is about me becoming an accounting major, isn't it?" He didn't answer, and I knew I was right. "Listen, just because you're giving me voice lessons doesn't mean that I'm going to chase after some fantasy, okay? I need to be realistic."

"But if you could study anything you wanted, just for yourself, would it be music?" he challenged.

The corners of my eyes began to burn with tears. "Yes, it would be music, okay? Are you happy now that I've said it? I want to study music more than anything in the world, but I can't. _I can't!"_

 _"Miss Daa_ _è!"_ I stopped my rant and turned to find Mrs. Valerius standing by the computer section, arms crossed. "You know better than to be loud in here," she reprimanded.

My face flushed with shame. "I'm sorry." I gathered my things and left the computer section. As I climbed the stairs, I noticed to my irritation that Erik was following me. I went to my chair, and he pulled one up beside me as if nothing was wrong. "You really can't take a hint, can you?"

He shrugged, somehow elegantly. _Damn him and his effortless grace._ "I hate waste, Miss Daaè, and it would be a waste for you to not study music."

"I don't understand you. You insist on giving me voice lessons, but then, you want me to go study music in college? You know that if I were to do that, I'd have to take lessons from one of the music faculty, right? You couldn't keep me as a student."

He shrugged again, but this time, I thought I saw something dark flash in his eyes, there one moment and gone the next. "It doesn't matter to me who teaches you. What matters is that you have a gift. And you would lead a miserable life if you studied anything else but music."

"You care about my happiness?" I asked. Skepticism was evident in my tone, and Erik raised an eyebrow. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Is that such a surprise?"

"Well, yeah," I sputtered. "I mean, you're . . . well . . ."

He waved his hand, dismissing my feeble attempts at explaining myself. "It shouldn't. We _are_ friends, after all."

I shook my head. Erik was too bizarre. "Look, I'll think about it." He didn't reply, so I added, "That's all I'm going to promise for now, okay? Besides, I'm only a junior. I have over a year until I graduate."

"Only a year," he said so softly that I almost didn't hear him. Then, louder, "It doesn't matter to me, Miss Daaè. It's your decision. Now, let me read; I've been distracted long enough." He then turned to his book, and I tried to follow suit, but I couldn't stop from looking at him every so often in confusion.

 **Posted on December 12, 2017**


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